


a letter to the director

by Starful_nights



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: California (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Kinda, Letters, Murder, Oops?, Poetry, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Well - Freeform, almost-poetry, also can be inetrpreted as satanist if u squint a lot now that i think of it, pov unnamed killjoy, some nongraphic description of bleeding out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starful_nights/pseuds/Starful_nights
Summary: a letter left on the Director's corpse
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	a letter to the director

**Author's Note:**

> this is the result of me watching blade runner a day after rereading his dark materials, thinking about what being a rebel means and then letting my thoughts run away with me. bon appetit :)  
> (unedited, and not entirely meant to be coherent. we love stream of consciousness borderline poetry in this house)

hello. i hope the deathbed You’re reading this on is uncomfy as hell.  
i admire You in a way, in the way one admires a serial killer who gets away with it every time. You slaughtered all Our free will and we never even noticed.  
all our ideals were lost to time like tears in the rain. was that good or bad? anyhow, You came and replaced the emptiness with Something.  
You created a world from nothing, cold and grey and perfect in every way. according to the ideals You created, anyway.  
the only splashes of colour seem to be the ones You create with limited shelf lives and no free will until something breaks them out by mere chance. your artificial paradise tears at the seams every now and then. it’s fine, though, glitches happen, You say. You’ll deal with it. it’s funny how perfect everything is until clarity returns and you see things for what they are. was it like this for adam and eve? did the apple show the truth of the vile paradise, were they kicked out or did they just walk? did the angels fall or jump?  
burning bright means burning short and burning short means burning bright. burning bright and colourful is all that can save you from the grey of Your fake universe, but You don’t see that, do You? for You, all we are is threats to be eliminated, not the ones spreading the Truth you try so hard to hide: heaven isn’t as fun as it seems. original thought is original sin, and Your pretend atheism is a thin veil of the fact that nothing You do will be enough to stop Us. there’s only so many resources You can waste on the few rebels who stand against You, and why would You care, anyways? We burn bright and short and disappear by the time You blink twice. Your Citizens barely burn but they last long and that’s all that matters to You. it’s cheaper that way. and really, one would think imaginary money wouldn’t be a prime concern, but there You have it. everything We as a species do is imaginary, You’d argue, but does that even matter? is Love imaginary? is Free Choice imaginary? to You, definitely. to Us? it’s all We have left.  
will the last thing You see be Your own blood, shining bright red like the rage of whoever finally pulled the trigger? will You realise You’re just as human as all the others, despite being a God? or will Your miserable, long life end right where it started, in a pile of broken, grey machines just like You? i wish i could pull the trigger, i wish i could watch You slowly deteriorate like Your lies will, one day. unfortunately, i am but one of the ones You lost, and hope to regain like lost sheep. You never could tell when one of those sheep was a wolf, could You? blinded by what most would call good intentions but i call hubris, You never cared when one of Yours turned into Your opponent, confident they’d come back. how’s that working out for You, as You lie on the floor, Your life support gone by the Bomb that’s more than a Bomb, but You wouldn’t see that, would You? You only see a single purpose for all, and something, someone having more pains You apart from when it’s your precious Medication that ‘heals’ and integrates deeper into Heaven at once. or maybe not. those seem the same, after all. does it even really matter? nothing matters, apart from staying alive long enough to see You disappear off this earth forever. 

-someone whose name You wouldn’t recognise but if You saw my face You’d Know

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~this was originally supposed to be blue pov but then i wrote it from a humans pov bc a. im a human (i think /j) b. it kind of went into cherri pov halfway and just. ye. unnamed killjoys pov now~~
> 
> give this a kudos or comment (i mean. if u want but ill be forever grateful) and find me on tumblr for irregular posts that are only danger days 10% of the time at moonlight-explosion! wow im so great at marketing /s


End file.
